Of Days Gone By
by V.Evergreen
Summary: When they found her wandering alone, bloody and barefoot, many had wondered if she'd ever be the same. He, however, knew.


He breathed in deeply when he first walked through the doors and out of the pressing heat of the summer sun. His suit jacket was folded neatly over one arm but the cool shade of the inside was still welcome.

"Hey, Patrick." Came a voice from the reception desk. All the nurses knew his name, he was there often enough. He smiled genially but didn't stop as he passed the receptionist and down the hall. He didn't need anyone to show him the way to her room; he hadn't for some time now.

It was light and airy as he strolled down the corridor with the first hint of evening rolling in. It was a good deal more welcoming than the hospital she'd been kept in at first; he'd fought tooth and nail to get her out of there. He'd won eventually, but only after it was established she wasn't going to be a threat to anyone except herself.

This place at least had carpet instead of clinical tiles and nurses who smiled as they doled out the meds.

He passed a few people as he walked down the halls, mainly nurses who nodded as he walked past with a murmured greeting but also a patient or two being gently lead. She wasn't one of them but he didn't expect her to be.

He eventually reached her door, firmly closed as it normally was. Gone were the days where her door was always open to friends and colleagues alike.

He tapped on it gently, as he always did, and then entered. Some days she refused to speak at all, and it was after he spent five minutes waiting for her call of welcome that he decided it was best for him just to walk in normally. Part of him wanted to breeze in unannounced as he used to, but he never did.

He first looked to the bed where she'd be curled up, wide eyed and unmoving if it was a bad day. His lips twitched into a smile when she wasn't there. He took a step into the room and spotted her.

She sat in a chair that she'd obviously dragged over to the window. It wasn't much of a view but it overlooked part of the communal garden and it showed the clear sky that had graced Sacramento making everything look brighter and more cheerful in its light.

He cleared his throat gently and gave her time to turn around. He'd learnt the hard way not to suprise her.

For a moment green eyes remained clouded with confusion but they soon cleared into pleasant surprise.

"They said you weren't coming to see me today." She said, pleasure at being proved right lilting her voice.

He forced a cheerful smile, "I promised I'd be here, my dear."

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "I know." She told him simply, "But they think you come here too often."

He knew it wasn't strictly the truth, but more to the fact that the nurses couldn't figure out why he visited nearly every day for as much time as he could spare. It was devotion that they said they rarely saw. He'd smiled and carefully chattered away without really saying anything but inside he was disgusted with himself. Some might say he was devoted to her but that wasn't the only reason he took the same pilgrimage everyday.

It was his fault she was there. "Well, what do they know?" His jibe was well placed and he knew it, she wasn't fond of the nurses no matter how kind they were to her or how tolerant they were of her few escape attempts that showed an unusual and slightly shocking amount of resourcefulness. It was almost like she was reliving echos of her life before. In fact, he spent many an hour wishing he never taught her how to pick a lock and a few more mourning her competitive streak that made her want to master the skill in a fit of pique towards him.

She nodded seriously at his comment. "I've been waiting for you today." She said with a vague smile, "I remembered something."

Immediately she had his complete and undivided attention.

Ever since he day they'd found her lost, bloody and walking the streets barefooted she hadn't been able to tell them anything. Some days when he visited her she refused to speak at, just stared straight ahead, eyes wide and fearful. Those were the days he'd stay by her side, sometimes stroking her hair until she fell into an uneasy and fitful sleep.

"What is it?" He asked remembering to try and sound calm as loud noises only made her edgy, "What did you remember?"

She smiled vaguely, her eyes not really focused, "He gave me a message to tell you."

His heartbeat was heavy in his throat, "What was it?" He croaked.

Her eyes focused sharply and she looked at him with searing intensity, "She screamed for you." She quoted looking pleased at her own rememberance and utterly oblivious to the fact that his heart had stuttered and refused to restart. "He told me to tell you that right until the end she thought you'd save her."

His entire body flushed cold. His hands shook and for a wild second he thought he was going to be sick. It was all his fault. He should've distanced himself from her, he should have kept her closer, should have looked longer, pushed harder-

A small and fragile hand settled over his. He looked up and her head was cocked to the side like a curious child.

"Did you know her?" She asked lightly.

He nodded before breathing in unsteadily, "She was a dear friend." He said unable to look at her green eyes and dark hair but most of all the detached stare while he gathered his strength, "The very best."

"What was her name?"

He took a second to make sure his voice was steady when he spoke, "Teresa Lisbon. I just called her Lisbon."

For a second he both hoped and feared that she was going to ask him elaborate. She opened her mouth but her eyes darted to one side. "Grace bought me some flowers yesterday."

The subject change was abrupt and clumsy but welcome nonetheless. He grasped at it, "She said she was going to."

In actual fact the flowers had wilted from days stood in the sun but he wasn't going to correct her.

Instead he stayed his usual hour, trying to make sense of half of the things she said and trying to keep the shadows out if her eyes. He wasn't an optimist or deluding himself, he knew that she was most likely never going it recover and if she did it would never be anything like it was before. Kristina Frye hadn't had half the spirit Lisbon had and yet a little time with Red John and she had been left a broken shell of a woman. As much as his mind rebelled against even thinking it, he hadn't protected Lisbon any better than he had Kristina, and this was the result.

When he got up to leave she just looked up at him from where she had curled up in her chair. She'd lost weight since they'd put her in here, weight she couldn't afford to lose. The result was that she looked fragile and almost ethereal bathed in the dying light of the sun. Almost as if she were half way to the next world already. "You're coming back, aren't you?" She asked uneasily.

"Of course." His smile was as fake as snow in July but she couldn't tell the difference.

She didn't smile, merely stared at him until he left with a sad nod.

He passed the same receptionist on the way out, acknowledging her little more than he had the first time.

"Bye Patrick, see you tomorrow?"

He didn't look back as he walked into the dusky evening and its growing shadows.

"Of course. And the day after that."


End file.
